


A Feat of Great Courage

by annabeth_at_the_helm



Series: Swamp Shenanigans [5]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: 1950s, Feet, Foot Massage, Korean War, M/M, slight foot kink, that never really gets off the ground
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_at_the_helm/pseuds/annabeth_at_the_helm
Summary: Hawkeye tends to feet that have been upright and supporting Trapper for many, many hours.
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Series: Swamp Shenanigans [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764046
Kudos: 10





	A Feat of Great Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Written for "leathery" for Get Your Words Out Yahtzee prompt #7, large straight.

_The next day_

"I said I'd make it up to you," Hawkeye said, even as he massaged Trapper's foot. "Just lie back and enjoy it." He rubbed, his fingers digging into pressure points, making Trapper sigh and lean back on his elbows.

"That does feel good, Hawk," he said dreamily, probably half-asleep anyway. Twenty hours of surgery could do that to a man—and he had been on his feet for hours, too.

"You should take better care of your feet, Trap," Hawkeye said, feeling the rough skin beneath his fingers. It was tough and callused, and it was clear to Hawkeye that Trapper never moisturized. "They're as tough as hide," he said. The leathery texture felt a bit unpleasant to Hawkeye's fingers, but he had gotten off the day before at Trapper's hands, and Trapper had stalked off to the showers without getting his own. Hawkeye felt a tad guilty about that.

"Who has the time?" Trapper mumbled, his eyes slipping shut. "Hawk…" but he trailed off, and even as Hawkeye switched feet, he glanced up the length of Trapper's body to see… that he wasn't even hard, he was asleep, and snoring besides. He'd collapsed like a limp dishrag, and Hawkeye couldn't even hold it against him. They were both exhausted, and Hawkeye was running on fumes himself.

"Oh well," he said, and because Trapper wasn't going to be getting a foot job, Hawkeye sat back on his own heels, rummaging in his footlocker. "Might as well take better care of them, now that you're mine," he added to no one in particular, and began massaging lotion into the callused bottoms of Trapper's feet.

By the time he was done, they were less like tough leather and more like calfskin.


End file.
